The passivity of the situation suddenly sunk in, and I dragged my feet onward through the revolving door. I felt helpless, not only to the world, but helpless to my own confusion. I couldn't form the words to capture my feelings, because they just weren't there. And I think their lack of existence scared me the most of all.

I stopped at the sight of my reflection in the door. I glanced around me, appreciating the solitude for a moment. I went back to the glass, scrutinizing the reflection for answers. But all she presented was this complacent pensiveness that was all too familiar. I shivered from a chill that had nothing to do with the cold, and pushed my way through the door.

The campus was quiet, with only the rustling of leaves daring to break the code of silence. Everyone was gone with something important to do. So, I slowly walked on, considering my mistakes and confusion with every other step.

Step. "I should have given him space..."

Step. "I am happy...but should I be?"

Step. "Was it too soon?"

With this final step, I was at a long row of old lockers. The lockers were fighting a losing battle against the elements, with peeling scars of blue paint to prove it. My gaze shifted down the row, as phantoms crept into my ears and crowded the otherwise peaceful scene with things of the past...

A young, new couple gingerly held hands as a morose onlooker passed by, his grude sitting on his shoulders. A group of friends chuckled loudly over nothing, sometimes resorting to chases when they got bored of conversation. A girl sat crying on a cement bench near a tree, while a stone-faced boy slouched against a wall at the opposite end of the courtyard. And two girls strolled through the scenes with critical eyes and thoughts. But all the while, other passerbys whispered things: sometimes of relevance, but usally without.

All these phantoms came back with such force that I fell back against the lockers, and slid down onto the cold pavement below. Part of me missed those days, and the other part was more than willing to forget they ever happened. I stifled a tear or two as my gaze fell upon the couple and the observer. Suddenly there was a rush, and those elusive feelings knocked down the door and stampeded in. My eyes widened, my hands shook, and tears flooded my visions. The ghosts drifted behind walls of water, until they were gone.

And so there I was, confused and crying, on the floor of some highschool courtyard. Caught between shame and pride, love and hate, pessimism and relentless optimism. I was torn and ever so unsure.

And of course, that's when he showed up.